<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Part of the Job Description by Shadowling-guistical (Hit_or_Mish)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224656">Part of the Job Description</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hit_or_Mish/pseuds/Shadowling-guistical'>Shadowling-guistical (Hit_or_Mish)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fasting, Gen, Original Muslim Character, POV Outsider, Remix, creative trade series, religion mentions, thomas is a middle school science teacher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:08:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hit_or_Mish/pseuds/Shadowling-guistical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Um. Oh, is it...Is it really okay?” She asked, cautiously. She didn’t think her kinda nerdy science teacher would be the type to be mean or anything but still…</p>
<p>“Of course!” Mr. Sanders smiled, gathering the last of the materials on his desk, “It’s part of my job description as a teacher after all. To make sure every one of my students has what they need. And now that I know that you’re fasting, I want to make sure you’re comfortable.  So you’re welcome to stay in my class for however long you want,”</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>It's Ramadhan, and Zahra found herself receiving support from the most unlikely source. Her sweet but kind of boring science teacher.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>TSS Fanworks Collective Discord: January Remix Challenge!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Part of the Job Description</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlwriting/gifts">Fangirlwriting</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296104">Career</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlwriting/pseuds/Fangirlwriting">Fangirlwriting</a>.
        </li>

        <li>In response to a prompt by
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlwriting/pseuds/Fangirlwriting">Fangirlwriting</a>  in the  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tss_fanworks_collective_discord_january_remix_challenge">tss_fanworks_collective_discord_january_remix_challenge</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>Prompt:</strong>
</p>
<p>I’m okay with almost any of my works being remixed as long as they are already completed.  The exceptions are “That's What Heroes Do,” as it was already inspired by someone else, and “Missing Morals,” as it was a gift fic.  I have no issues with any changes to pairings (except no RemRom please), and I cannot think of anything that I would specifically not want to see.</p>
<p>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlwriting/works?fandom_id=17879139</p>
<p>Hey there~! So this is a Remix for Fangirl's very fun fic called Career! I absolutely LOVE the concept of Thomas as a science teacher, so I decided to put a personal touch to it in my own way. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zahra thought that she got this. She fasted when she had school before. She had been doing that, in fact, for the past couple of years. Before that and ever since she was nine, she has been fasting on the weekends when she would help her baba in the shop. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She got this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She got this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If Nadia could fast and do yoga when she gets back from her classes, then Zahra was </span>
  <em>
    <span>positive</span>
  </em>
  <span> she can get through middle school.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had been perky when the bus dropped her off that morning, fresh as a daisy and feeling all warm from the kiss baba gave her before she left. She was even wearing the new hijab mama got her to keep her morale high! It had the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>lovely</span>
  </em>
  <span> cream colour with a dainty looking daisy print, and the fond look her mama had given her when she showed it off made her feel 10 feet tall. Betty from next door had even gushed over it when they were at the bus stop. Her excited squeal had made Zahra grin and preen, and it ended with her promising the small ginger girl she was fond of that she’d help pick one for her to have for her birthday too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, one thing her energy isn’t, was bottomless. By the time she had maths with Miss Johnson, she started to feel it drain, like water slipping through the cracks of her fingers. Tried as she might to conserve it, it was starting to take a bit of a toll on her.  In English with Mr. Davidson, she felt sluggish and her throat started to feel the familiar tingle of thirst. She wanted to talk less and less and she just wanted to stare at the wall and let voices wash over her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And by the time she was in science class, Zahra felt like a car running on the last of it’s fuel. She didn’t even smile genuinely when Mr Sanders greeted her as she entered. It had been a half hearted smile. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m just trying to be polite</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile. The same kind of one she sees baba give to particularly nasty and difficult customers. Though at least, Science was before recess. And during lunch, she could hang out in the library. She always felt better after some time to herself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr Sanders was talking to the seas right now. Pictures of deep blue blown wide on the projector whose colours softly change from light blue to pitch black. He was talking numbers, big ones that Zahra felt might be important, but not enough to actually jot down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Someone, Jessie, raised her hand and it became the start of a tangent about deep sea fish. And oh-- good for them the whole class looks interested, whoopee--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And when--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her stomach, with impeccable timing then made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a growl and a rumble. She wrapped her arms around it, mortified and ashamed. To her, it sounded that someone had chucked a wrench in the shop’s meat grinder. It was <em>awful</em>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zahra bit back a groan, though not because of hunger. She felt the familiar heat of embarrassment flare up, making her ears feel warm. She discreetly looked around, wanting to disappear beneath her hijab.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh-- Oh good. If anyone had noticed, they didn’t seem to react. All of them were engrossed with some kind of video that Mr Sanders had ended up showing. Oh thank Allah for Jessica and her tangents-- At least she didn’t have to worry about being teased or anything. That would just be awful. Slowly loosening her arms around the middle, she then basically wilted over her desk. She let the sounds of the video and the narrator wash over her. It was absolutely no use. Her focus was all over the place and she couldn’t think about anything else but what baba and mama planned to make for iftar that night. All she wanted was to curl up and sleep until the sun slips under the horizon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But of course, that would be impossible. Her grandmama said so. Spending the day sleeping while you’re fasting is frowned upon. And if there’s one thing she hates more than vegetables, it’s disappointing her grandmama. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“We must go on with our day as normally as possible, my love. Remember that. Fasting is not only to abstain, but also to experience. By fasting, we also get to experience what it’s like for the people that are less fortunate than us. Those who struggle and those who go to bed hungry. So promise me you’ll try your best, alright Zahra?”)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay grandmama</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But before she could smush her face against her desk for long, she heard Mr Sanders’ voice from the front of the class, that had cut through the excited babble of conversation the others had about the video. Some of them wanted to see more but as usual, Mr. Sanders had managed to wrangle them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, okay. Settle down. So now, we're going to have some quiet time and do some worksheets alright?" She raises her head to see Mr. Sanders close the video and end the PowerPoint. His familiar screensaver of a cat hanging from a branch being the only thing projected now, "Take out your workbooks,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>To that, she does groan. As did a few others. She hears Mr Sanders chuckle, soft and fond, because they do this every single time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on you guys, it isn’t so bad. These double as your homework anyway.” He waved his whiteboard marker lightly, “So we can do this now, where I can help you with any questions you have, or you can bring this home alongside your homework from your other classes. And I think you all would like to have less homework at home. Right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes Mr. Sanders,” She mumbled, joining the chorus of her other classmates.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Now get to work, I’ll go around the class. Hand up of you need me,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed, hand reaching down towards her own bag.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Zahra? You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmfine,” She answered Catherine’s question half heartedly. She didn’t look so convinced, but didn’t push, “Boredddd…”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn't help that Mr Sanders' class can get… monotonous. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Repetitive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Always the same thing, over and over again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She stewed in that bitter thought silently, suddenly feeling quite annoyed. Because it was true! All he did was teach them the topic that they were supposed to do, crack some jokes, and then do worksheets until the bell rang.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> In any other time, she would have realized that she was behaving irrationally, and mostly just plain cranky. But honestly, she was just tired and he wanted to find a nook in the library and, what was the word that Nadia liked to use? Recharge? Yeah, recharge. She wanted to recharge. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Frustration bubbled deep in Zahra’s stomach, alongside the hunger and for a moment, she thought she would downright cry tears of frustration. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to recharge. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t want to do this dumb worksheet. Or sit in Mr Sanders’ dumb science class. Or go to dumb school--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ugh, everything’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>dumb</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, she had spent the rest of the period doodling in the margins of her notebook. Each stroke and swirl containing her frustrations and annoyance. Her mama would have sighed, and tell her that she’s just in a bad mood. The difference was, here in her school there was no papa to talk to her until she felt better, nor mama to hug until she smiled, nor even Nadia to tease her until she was reduced into a pile of giggles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At least she still had the decency to nonchalantly flip to another page whenever Mr. Sanders passed by. It kept him from seeing that she’s obviously not doing her work. It continued until finally, the bell to lunch rang. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zahra allowed herself a moment of rejoice, slumping in her seat as the peers around her each began to bloom like mushrooms after the rain. Each of them literally springing back to life after being bent over their desks like wilted flowers. However, she hadn’t moved a muscle.  She only sighed, letting herself catch a breath for a moment. Which was weird since-- what had she been doing anyway? She’s only been sitting in her seat, doesn’t explain why she’s so tired--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Zehra?” She hears a voice speak her name. It sounded a little awkward in his tongue. It was her name of course, but a little to the left, somehow, “Is everything alright?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes flickered to the teacher’s desk, where she sees Mr Sanders looking at her with that gaze of his. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. Oh no--</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sat up straighter, flipping her book shut with a little more haste than normal, “Yeah, Sorry Mr. S. I’m just--” She swallowed, her mouth faintly feeling like the sahara, “I’m just tired,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zahra felt dread </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. But Zahra...Kiddo can I talk to you for a second? I know it’s lunch, but it won’t take long”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aaaaaand there it was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kiddo</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A word Mr Sanders only ever used when it was serious talk time. He even used it when he gave Bruce a detention last week, and that had been scary. He’d never seen Mr. Sanders frown that hard before. She isn’t surprised though, because Bruce really did deserve it when he took Mia’s book like that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mind,” She ended up saying, “I...Uh, I don’t plan on eating lunch today anyway,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This time, it seemed like it was his turn to look at her, rapt with attention, “...May I ask why? Are you alright? If you forgot your lunch money, I can contact your parents or--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked, “Oh-- No, No it’s okay. I-- Well you see, it’s uh, it’s Ramadhan, sir,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zahra could very clearly remember words that sounded as if it came from her sister, but couldn’t quite pinpoint when she had heard it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“It’s not like they ever know our holidays anyway-- Really, I had a classmate in my lecture that asked what Ramadhan was. And that wowwwww do you really not eat and drinkkkkk? As if that’s the only thing we have to-- to abstain from. Dear God, some people are just idiots--”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nadia my dear,  that’s not nice--”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But it’s true, mama! Wouldn’t hurt them to read a little more…”)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zahra wondered which category of people Mr. Sanders is in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She could almost see the process it took for her teacher’s brain to compute the foreign word. Though, to his credit, it didn’t take long for realization to dawn on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. I see, I didn’t realize-- Then.You’re fasting right now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yessiree,” She acted nonchalant, swinging her bag over the shoulder as she prepared to leave the classroom, “That’s why I’ve been a little..Yanno,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She felt her face heat up again, while she could feel the science workbook in her backpack burn against her back. Maybe Mr Sanders won’t notice that she isn’t looking him in the eye. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hangry. She had trouble focusing in class because she was hangry. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well” Thomas admitted, “I did notice that you were a little off, today,” There was a pause, “I was worried that something else was wrong. But I’m glad that you’re okay. Thank you for letting me know Zahra. Is there...Is there anything I could do to make it easier for you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zahra blinked, “Easier?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I can’t imagine that going through hours of school on an empty stomach to be particularly fun,” His words were light, but careful, “I don't know as much as I’d liked, but I assume that it would be tiring to you,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s...Kind of early on in Ramadhan. I’m still trying to adjust,” She mumbled. She envies her sister, who doesn’t seem to bat an eye at the start of the fasting month while she would take days, sometimes weeks before she’s used to fasting enough that she doesn’t get cranky in the middle of the day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.  So is there anything I can help with? Do you need a place for you to rest during lunch?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She thinks of the library, and the silent nook she would try to find with varying degrees of success. How it sometimes gets too crowded for her to comfortably decompress. And people can be noisy even with Mrs Drachus breathing down their neck. The library that compared to Mr Sanders classroom, with the wind chimes hung near the windows, the lavender scented air freshener on his desk, and the bean bags at the back of the classroom, made his offer sound tempting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um. Oh, is it...Is it really okay?” She asked, cautiously. She didn’t think her kinda nerdy science teacher would be the type to be mean or anything but still…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course!” Mr. Sanders smiled, gathering the last of the materials on his desk, “It’s part of my job description as a teacher after all. To make sure every one of my students has what they need. And now that I know that you’re fasting, I want to make sure you’re comfortable.  So you’re welcome to stay in my class for however long you want,” There was a pause, “Would you also maybe need somewhere to pray? I heard that you pray five times a day, right? I remember I’ve had some colleagues having to rush around during their afternoon prayers and all, trying to find time...You don’t, or at least, I hope that it’s not the case for you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted her to be comfortable. He thinks it’s part of his job. His duty. Zahra suddenly felt very guilty for calling Mr. Sanders’ science class dumb,</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No..! No it’s- It’s fine, Mama makes sure I get home early enough so I can pray Zuhr there,” She then racked her brain, until finally mama’s quick words on politeness cut through her thoughts, “--Thank you, Mr Sanders, I..It’s very nice of you,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Zahra, it’s the least I can do as your teacher,” She sees him smile easily, “I understand that you might not be comfortable with just me in the room,” She nodded rapidly, stomach clenching at the thought of staying in a room alone with a male adult unsupervised. Because Nadia had told him about things like that and how </span>
  <em>
    <span>you should always be careful, Zahra</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “”And that’s perfectly fine. I spend my lunch break in the teacher’s lounge anyway, so you’re free to use the room as long as you stay out of trouble. But knowing you, I don’t think I need to worry about that, wouldn’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She returned his smile with her own cheeky own, “Nah, I won’t cause you trouble. I promise!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. I’ll be in the teacher’s lounge if you need me. Do you want to use the room today?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take long for her to come to a decision.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“May I? Please?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel free,” With one last easy smile, Mr Sanders gathered his laptop in his arms and headed for the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow Zahra,” He paused as he turned around, “And oh--I hope you and your family have a happy Ramadhan. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks sir. I will,” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alone, Zahra ambled to the beanbags at the back of the class. She let her bag slip from her hands as she settled onto one of them, the good ones that students seemed to like fighting over. And it was no wonder-- it was every bit as comfortable as she had imagined. She gave a content sigh as she relaxed. Her hunger pangs were still there, and her mouth, throat, and tongue parched dry. But somehow, she felt that getting through school wouldn’t be as bad as she had thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some additional information~!</p>
<p>Ramadhan is the holy month in the Islamic Calendar when Muslims fast during sundown to sunset. While abstaining from eating is the main feature of Ramadhan, Muslims also takes the month to be more spiritually conscious and focus on good deeds and charity. Before the dawn, Muslims eat a light meal called a Suhr, while the meal during the breaking of the fast is the Iftar.</p>
<p>Zuhr is the prayer that Muslims perform mid afternoon. And while the specific times depend on the region, the time to perform Zuhr are usually 1pm to 3pm.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>